


Grief

by decrescendo



Series: Missing Scenes [7]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Book 6: Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, Canon Compliant, Crying, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Friendship, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, Missing Scene, POV Hermione Granger
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-23
Updated: 2017-07-23
Packaged: 2018-12-05 17:21:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,446
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11582685
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/decrescendo/pseuds/decrescendo
Summary: Hermione realizes just how much the grief of losing Sirius is weighing on her best friend, and refuses to let him suffer alone.





	Grief

Hermione crept silently up the Burrow's stairs, returning to Ginny's room after having woken in the middle of the night needing to pee. There was no reason why she  _shouldn't_ be out of bed, but she was keen not to be heard; Mrs. Weasley had been so jumpy lately, and Hermione did not want to cause her any undo alarm by making noises in the night.  

She paused on the landing outside Fred and George's old room, though, certain suddenly that she had heard a noise from within. She stood tensely for a moment, listening hard, before remembering that it was currently occupied by Harry, who had probably just made a noise in his sleep. She was just about to move on, relieved, when the noise happened again: something resembling a gasp, a bit louder, she thought, than was normal for someone who was peacefully asleep. 

Her first logical thought, after she had calmed the brief resurgence of anxiety, was that there was a very simple explanation for why a sixteen-year-old boy might be gasping in his bedroom at night; she pushed this thought away, though, both squeamish and unconvinced that it was actually the right explanation. It had not really sounded like a gasp of pleasure, it was more –

It happened again, louder this time, and Hermione knew for certain: Harry was crying. 

She hesitated a moment, torn between her instinct to comfort him and her knowledge that Harry was far too proud to want to accept help from anyone when he was upset. 

But then the noise happened again, clearly identifiable now as a sob, and she made up her mind. Pride be damned; no one could convince her that Harry was better off with no one there to help him through his grief. 

She knocked lightly on the door, not wanting to attract anyone's attention but Harry's. He made no response, but the soft cries were cut abruptly off, and she knew that he was muffling them now, desperate not to be heard. "Harry?" she called softly. "Can I come in?"

The silence continued and her heart ached at the thought of the pain he was hiding, convinced as always that asking for help would make him a burden. 

"I know you're awake," she said. 

After a beat in which he had clearly been deciding the best way to make her leave, Harry called, "I am  _now._ " 

She could not help but roll her eyes even as her sadness and sympathy intensified at the obvious tears in his voice. 

"Harry, please."

"Leave me alone, Hermione," he snapped, but his feigned bravado crumbled when his voice broke on her name. She heard another sob escape him and decided that that was quiet enough. 

"I'm coming in," she said in a voice that she hoped both conveyed compassion and left no room for argument. She allowed him just a moment of preparation before she opened the door. 

By the dim moonlight she could see the outline of him sitting up in bed, hunched over with his arms wrapped around his knees and his face turned away from her. She sat down on the edge of the bed, unsure, now that she was here, what to do. He was trembling slightly, and apparently trying even now to cry as inconspicuously as possible. 

For several long minutes she just kept him company in silence, wondering with vague anxiety if perhaps she really was just making things worse. Finally she worked up the nerve to speak.

"Is there anything you want to talk about?"

Harry shook his head. "I'm f-fine," he insisted in a voice that said plainly otherwise.

"You're not," said Hermione, and winced at how loud she sounded next to him. "Harry, please, I know you're hurting. You don't need to hide from me."

"It's nothing," he muttered. "It's stupid, really. Don't worry about it."

Hermione felt a sudden and strong rush of anger at Harry's aunt and uncle, who she knew, though Harry had never said so, were unkind to the point of being abusive. Certainly they had done nothing to comfort Harry in the weeks since Sirius' death; she doubted, now that she thought about it, whether Harry had even told them. 

"Harry, have you...since..." She hesitated, reluctant to say Sirius' name. "Since the Ministry, have you, you know, talked to anyone? At all?"

"Of course I've talked to people," he said, the effect of his annoyance diminished somewhat by how thick his voice was. 

Hermione sighed; he was being deliberately obtuse. "About Sirius," she clarified. 

Harry said nothing. 

"Look," she said gently, lowering her voice, "if I'm making things worse - if you really want me to go - just say so and I swear I will. But Harry..."

She trailed off, choosing her next words carefully, knowing that the smallest mistake would scare him off entirely. 

"...no one would think any less of you if you needed help. No one would think you were weak, or a burden." She paused. "We all want to help you, Harry. You just have to let us."

The silence that followed stretched on for nearly a minute, and Hermione, sure she was going to be dismissed, prepared herself to leave. Just as she was about to stand, though, Harry finally spoke, so quietly it was almost inaudible. 

"I can't stop thinking about him."

Hermione settled back onto the bed, pulling her feet up this time to sit cross-legged beside him. She waited patiently for him to continue, and after a long moment, he did. 

"It never goes away. I think about him every second.  _Every second,_ Hermione, I -" His voice broke again and he drew a deep, shuddering breath. "And it's – it's –"

Hermione felt her own eyes growing wet with tears. 

"— it's  _all – my –  fault._ "

He put his head down on his knees and began to sob in earnest. 

"Oh, Harry..." breathed Hermione, and without thinking she reached out and wrapped her arms around him. He fell sideways into her embrace, all determination to appear strong drained out of him. She had never imagined that her best friend – the bravest person she knew, who had endured so much – could look so impossibly small and fragile. 

He pressed his face into her shoulder, his entire body shaking with sobs, and she felt as if her own heart was breaking to see him like this. Odd choking noises were coming out of him between sobs, and it took her a moment to realize that he was trying to speak.  

"...shouldn't have believed...all my fault...gone...only family..."

"Shh," she whispered, holding him so tightly she thought she must be hurting him. "It's not your fault, Harry. No one blames you."

But her words did nothing to soothe him, and she thought she understood why: regardless of fault, no matter who was to blame, nothing could change the fact that Sirius Black was completely and irrevocably gone. 

She held him, rocking him gently, for what felt like many hours until finally he relaxed against her, cried out and utterly spent. She loosened her arms a bit and carded her fingers through the hair on the back of his head. 

Eventually he extracted himself from her arms and sat up. He had calmed down, but Hermione was disappointed to see that his embarrassment had returned as well. "Sorry," he muttered, moving fully away from her so that they were no longer touching. 

"Don't you ever apologize for this, Harry," she said, surprising even herself with the force in her voice. "You have nothing in the world to be ashamed of, okay?" When he did not react she repeated, "Okay?"

He nodded reluctantly. 

Much softer, she said, "You should try and get some sleep.” Harry nodded again, but made no move to get into bed.

"I just miss him," he whispered miserably. 

She resisted the urge the reach out and hug him again. “I know.”

After another long silence she finally stood, then, after a moment’s hesitation, leaned back over to press a chaste kiss to his cheek. “Try and get some sleep,” she repeated gently before pulling away.

“Hermione?” he called quietly just before she reached the door.

She turned back to him. “Yes, Harry?”

“Thank you. Really.”

He was looking up at her, meeting her eyes for the first time that night, and she felt suddenly as if her heart might burst with how deeply she cared for him. _It’s nothing,_ she almost said, but stopped herself – because it wasn’t nothing. Not to either of them. It was everything. 

So she only smiled at him – softly and a bit sadly, but a smile nonetheless – and quietly left his room.


End file.
